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The diverse eClements of 
religion 








THE DIVERSE ELEMENTS 
OF RELIGION 


BY THE SAME'AUTHOR 


ASPECTS OF THE BIBLE 

THE JEWISH LIFE 

THE SYNAGOGUE IN MODERN LIFE 
THE VARIED BEAUTY OF THE PSALMS 
THE EFFECTS OF RELIGION 

THE FAITH OF ISRAEL 

THE ALLIED COUNTRIES AND THE JEWS 
THE WAR AND THE BIBLE 

A JEWISH VIEW OF JESUS 

THE ADEQUACY OF JUDAISM 

THE JEW AND THE WORLD 





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OCT 20 1924 
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THE 
DtverseE ELEMENTS 
of 
RELIGION 


by 
H. G. Enretow 


THE BLOCH PUBLISHING CO. 
NEW YORK 
1924 









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_ Mr and Mrs NATHAN J. MILLER 





XII 


CONTENTS 


The Mystic Element in Religion.... 
The Communal Element in Religion. 
The Educational Element in Religion 
The Ceremonial Element in Religion 
The Ethical Element in Religion... 
The Sacrificial Element in Religion. 
The Vicarious Element in Releion! z 
The Democratic Element in Religion 
The Progressive Element in Religion 
The Theological Element in Religion 


The Poetic Element in Religion..... 


11 


19 


The Universal Element in Religion. . 107 


“And the Lord will guide thee contin- 
ually, and satisfy thy soul in drought. 
And thou shalt be like a watered gar- 
den, and like a spring of water, whose 
waters fail not. And thou shalt be 
called The repairer of the breach, the 
restorer of paths to dwell in!” 

—TIsarau 58, 11-12. 





I 


THE MYSTICAL ELEMENT IN 
RELIGION 


“When Moses went in before the Lord 
that He might speak with him, he took the 
veil off.”—Exodus 34, 34. 


-A.S we read the story of Moses at 
Mount Sinai, we must realize one 
thing often overlooked. I refer to 

the mystic quality of Moses. As a rule, 

we think of Moses in every other capa- 
city: he is the leader, the emancipator, 

the lawgiver. But, withal, Moses was a 

mystic, which, no doubt, was the chief 

part of his equipment and the secret of 
his activity. Perhaps this is what is 
meant by the veil which, the Bible re- 
lates, he put on his face after speaking 
to the people, and which he removed 
when he conversed with God. For, is not 
this the essence of all mysticism: an 
alternation, a merging, of disclosure and 
concealment, of the revealed and the 
hidden, of the rational and the more 
than rational? 

11 


There is good reason at present for 
considering the place of mysticism in 
Religion, and especially in the Jewish 
religion. First, because we hear so much 
about mysticism nowadays. Everybody 
talks about mysticism in religion, in art, 
in literature. But do people really know 
what they mean by the term? Often 
they mean by it the very opposite of 
what all true mystics have sought and 
striven for. Whatever is obscure, occult, 
fantastic, some regard as mystical. They 
mistake mummery for mysticism. On 
the other hand, there are those who, 
enamored of the word, complain that 
Judaism is lacking in the mystic ele- 
ment. It is nothing but a prosaic, legal- 
istic, rationalist creed, as far as they 
ean see; whereas, of course, quite the 
contrary is true. 


The mystic element of Religion, I be- 
lieve, consists of three parts, which we 
may call briefly the mystic starting 
point, method, and way. 


First, all mystical religion begins with 
a personal experience. This is where 


12 


every true mystic starts, whether in art, 
or literature, or religion. It is not what 
he has studied, or been told, or believed 
that to him is of prime import; but what 
he has experienced personally, no matter 
how this experience may have come. St. 
Francis of Sales, for example, the Catho- 
lic saint, the third centenary of whose 
death occurred recently, had such an 
experience, when during a period of 
spiritual anguish he entered a certain 
church and felt a sudden illumination 
dissolving his agonizing doubts. On the 
other hand, Rabbi Isaac Lurya, the cele- 
brated Jewish mystic who about the 
same time lived and taught in Palestine, 
received his own mystic enlightenment 
by spending some twenty years in soli- 
tary meditation on the banks of the 
Nile. Such an experience Moses had in 
the desert, when he saw the Burning 
Bush—and all his life was transformed, 
just as Isaiah had it when suddenly he 
beheld the Temple flooded with the 
Divine glory and heard the Divine Voice 
calling. Something similar has occurred 
in the case of every person to whom the 
word mystic may justly be applied. He 
13 


has had a personal experience, a per- 
sonal realization, of the truth, the 
beauty, and the force of Religion. 


And by what method does this hap- 
pen? The mystic’s answer is, By Con- 
templation. Moses, we are told, spent 
forty days and forty nights on Mt. Sinai, 
as he sought Divine truth. Why did it 
take forty days, ask the Rabbis, to pre- 
pare the Tables of the Law, while, ac- 
cording to the Bible story, it took only 
six days to create the world? To show, 
say the Rabbis, how much more difficult 
it is to create something spiritual than 
to create something material. Only by 
contemplation, all mystics are agreed, 
spiritual truth can be attained—by long 
and devout concentration of one’s entire 
being upon the theme of one’s search. 
Where such contemplation exists, more 
is attained than by the aid of mere tra- 
dition or reason. The reward of contem- 
plation is illumination, which comes 
through fusion with the object of one’s 
desire, by complete union of one’s own 
personality with the object of one’s love 
and pursuit. 


14 


And what follows is the mystic way. 
Some regard the mystic as a recluse, 
caring nothing for the world. This is 
far from true. Genuine mystics have 
cared greatly for the world and served 
it ardently. Their mystical experience 
is the very cause compelling them to 
serve the world, as we read in regard to 
Moses that after his communion with 
God, he came down to the people and 
told them what he had been commanded 
to say. Wayetsawem eth kol asher dib- 
ber Adonay itto. No doubt, he did not 
serve the people as they may have 
wanted; he did not join in their dance 
around the golden calf, as they might 
have liked: he served them rather as he 
had been bidden in his sacred moments 
on the Mount—the most benign and en- 
during way of serving them. But, as he 
came down from the Mount, his face 
shone, though he knew it not. What he 
brought down from the Mount was light, 
ardor, and joy—ecstasy—for the work 
he was to do, in spite of all hardships 
and disillusionments—in spite of the veil 
between himself and the people. 

15 


And the same has been true of all 
mystics. Their personal experience of 
God, their seasons of contemplation— 
this has endowed them not only with the 
desire to exert themselves for the com- 
mon good, but also with ‘light and 
strength and joy on their way, in their 
work. The genuineness of ecstasy, af- 
firms St. Teresa, shows itself in its fruit- 
ful effects, and, above all, in acts of 
humility. Similarly, Jewish saints often 
have maintained that the chief desire of 
the devout should be not to return their 
soul to its supernal source, but rather to 
draw the celestial soul into the affairs 
of this world. This, they maintain, is 
why our world is so imperfect. God 
might have made the world perfect. But 
out of love for man, He made it other- 
wise. He wanted to give man the oppor- 
tunity of perfecting it, of becoming His 
own fellow-worker. Only by man’s work 
can the world grow perfect. 


If this be the essence of the mystical 
element of Religion, then surely they are 
mistaken who deny its existence in Juda- 
ism. Of course, Judaism lays stress on 

16 


law and tradition, but both of them be- 
gin and end in mystical experience. There 
is no such division in Judaism between 
law and mysticism, as is found elsewhere 
(though some exponents of the subject, 
like Dr. Horodetzky, misled by alien 
example, would make it so appear). And 
this has been to the advantage of Juda- 
ism, protecting it against many an ex- 
cess and aberration. “The secret things 
belong unto the Lord our God; but the 
things that are revealed belong unto us 
and to our children forever, that we may 
do all the words of this law.” In the 
true sense, the Patriarchs, the Prophets, 
and most of the rabbis were mystical. 
Religion was to them a personal reality, 
contemplation was part of their practice, 
and they carried into their conduct the 
glow, the radiance of their faith. Moses 
summed it up in his classic command: 
“Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with 
all thy heart, with all thy soul, and with 
all thy might.” With all thy heart— 
emotionally, by personal experience; with 
all thy soul—by focusing your entire 
spiritual and mental force; and with all 
17 


thy might—in your daily contact with 
the tasks of life. 


We need more of the mystical element 
in our own religious life. Often we 
criticize our religion and its interpreters, 
because we do not get from them what 
we think we need and are entitled to. 
We have many grievances against God. 
But even Moses would have had no revel- 
ation, if he had not sought it. Many 
want the boon for which Matthew Ar- 
nold prays: 


“Calm soul of things, be it mine 

To feel, amid the city’s jar, 

That there abides a peace of thine 
Man did not make, and cannot mar!’ 


Let us use more of the mystic’s method! 
Let us have more of the habit of con- 
templation! Thus, we shall gain the 
mystic experience—a personal discovery 
of the Divine truth and glory—and the 
mystic reward, which is joy and light 
and strength for our work in the world. 
“Light is sown for the righteous, and 
joy for those of upright heart.” 
18 


II 


THE COMMUNAL ELEMENT IN 
RELIGION 


“And Moses assembled all the congrega- 
tion of the children of Israel.” 
—Huwuodus 35, 1. 


HE opening words of the thirty- 

fifth chapter of the book of Exodus 

are very significant. They read 
simply: “And Moses assembled all the 
congregation of the children of Israel.” 
Long ago the attention of the rabbinic 
exponents of the Bible was arrested by 
the emphasis of these words. ‘Moses 
assembled all the congregation of the 
children of Israel.” Wherein lies their 
importance? In this: they remind us of 
the communal side of the religion and 
activity of Moses, of their social, com- 
munal aspect—a reminder particularly 
needful at the present time. 


People sometimes find it difficult to fix 
the place of Moses in the history of 
Israel. Some regard him as the founder 
of Judaism. But he was not its founder. 
The Jewish religion existed long before 


19 


him. It goes back to the Patriarchs. 
When he appeared before the Jews in 
Kgypt, the Bible tells us, he addressed 
them in the name of the God of their 
fathers. If, however, he did not found 
the Jewish religion, what did he do? He 
made of Judaism a communal religion. 
That was his merit. Before him Judaism 
was the religion of individuals, of fami- 
lies. He made it the religion of a com- 
munity, of a people, and thus he not 
only saved it from dissolution, but ren- 
dered it an immeasurably potent factor 
in the history of mankind. All the teach- 
ings and institutions of Moses were im- 
pregnated with a communal purpose. The 
Decalogue was a brief summary, a 
solemn summary, of this social object of 
Moses’s religious teaching. The tent of 
meeting was its symbol. A French writer 
has said truly: “It is not so much that 
Moses created a religion for a people; he 
created a people for Religion.” He 
breathed the social spirit into’ the faith 
and into the soul of Israel. 


If we study history, we learn that it 
is this communal element that has 


20 


formed the glory of the Jewish religion, 
on the one hand, and, on the other, it 
has saved Israel from extinction. 


There has been much debating in the 
world as to what makes for the excel- 
lence of a religion—concern for the in- 
dividual soul or solicitude for the wel- 
fare of society. Quite a few have af- 
-firmed that the best religion is the one 
pre-occupied with the needs and the des- 
tiny—the salvation, as some call it—of 
the individual. Others have held the op- 
posite view, regarding as most desirable 
the kind of religion that stresses the col- 
lective interests of society. 


The distinction of Judaism, however, 
has consisted in the teaching that there 
is no separation between the individual 
and the community; as far as Religion 
is concerned. The moral and spiritual 
destiny of the individual is bound up 
with that of the community, and the 
reverse. There can be no perfection 
of character and happiness for the in- 
dividual without reference to the life of 
the community, nor can the community 


21 


attain perfection without considering 
the fate of the individual. This belief 
has formed part of the doctrine of all 
Jewish masters, and especially the 
Prophets. If your religion is genuine, 
they taught, and if it is to do any good, 
then it must find expression in communal 
action, in social relations, in such a con- 
duct of the business of life as would ac- © 
cord with the law of right, of justice and 
mercy. 


This dominant fact of the Jewish 
teaching no one can ignore, no matter 
what else one might fail to see in Juda- 
ism. It is the communal spirit of the Jew- 
ish religion. And, on the other hand, this 
spirit has helped the Jew to survive. It 
developed a sense of solidarity, of fel- 
lowship, of communal responsibility, 
among the Jewish people, which has 
triumphed over all the devices and cruel- 
ties of those who sought to destroy it. 


It is such a communal character that 
Religion needs today, if it is to help hu- 
manity at large. We hear a great deal 
of discussion as to what the world must 

22 


do to be saved. All kinds of remedies 
are being proposed. Religion occupies a 
prominent place in these debates. But 
some people demand why it is that Re- 
ligion has not done more in the past, why 
it did not prevent the present condition 
of misery in which the world finds itself. 
May we not answer that it is because 
men do not seem to have realized the 
social implications of true religion? In- 
dividual salvation, rather than human 
welfare, has formed the chief concern of 
Religion for the majority. 


Some ten years ago, Professor Durk- 
heim, of the Sorbonne, published an im- 
portant work, in which he asserted that 
Religion sprang originally from the col- 
lective needs and aims of human groups, 
and he tried to prove his thesis by many 
illustrations from the life of primitive 
peoples. If this be so, then we must con- 
clude that among civilized peoples Re- 
ligion has deteriorated rather than pro- 
gressed, seeing that for many a day in 
discussing Religion they have been in- 
sisting on the wants and the happiness 
of the individual rather than that of the 


23 


community. It is only now that men are 
beginning to demand a socialized reli- 
gion, as was done the other day by the 
editor of one of our leading magazines. 
Speaking of the numerous predictions 
one hears nowadays concerning a return 
of the Dark Ages, he suggested that 
mankind adopt a course which instead of 
bringing back the Dark Ages would 
bring about a new Renaissance, and 
among the things needed he named the 
socializing of Religion, the socializing 
of both its teachings and institutions. 


This is what the Jewish Prophets de- 
manded many centuries ago. According 
as such a religion becomes a reality, the 
world will be redeemed from its troubles. 


Isn’t this the more reason for the Jew 
to remain loyal to his own religion? 
There are those who say, Why keep up 
this ancient religion—it is nothing but 
a relic of the past—and besides, religion 
is a private affair! 


The answer is, that Judaism is indeed 
ancient, but by no means a relic. Its 


24 


teachings are only now beginning to get 
recognition. Nor is religion so entirely a 
private affair as some fancy. It may be 
private in origin, but its effect is com- 
munal, social, as wide as the world. It 
is like a great river which may have 
its beginning in some hidden recess 
of a mountain, but the course of which 
is toward the vast open sea. “Faith,” 
says Mr. Augustine Birrell, “is our 
largest manufactory of good works and 
whenever her furnaces are blown out, 
morality suffers.” A good deal of the 
decay of morals, which we hear lamented 
so often, is due to the diminution of 
faith in the hearts of modern men and 
women. 


Loyalty to Judaism means loyalty to 
the people which has carried the burden 
of this religion throughout the ages and 
to the ends of the world. And such 
loyalty we manifest by taking part in the 
work and the worship of the community. 


This is what Moses tried to teach when 
he called together all the people of Israel. 


25 


He taught them to stand together, to 
pray together, to study together, to work 
together for the common good. Let us, 
also, try to do these things: thus, we 
shall enrich our own lives and enhance 
the happiness of the world! 


26 


Il 


THE EDUCATIONAL ELEMENT IN 
RELIGION 


“And thou shalt teach them diligently 
unto thy children.’—Deuter. 6, 7. 


activity of Moses, we are impressed 

by the effort he made to educate 
his people. Without ceasing, he tried to 
teach them the laws of life and happi- 
ness. “I have set before thee life and 
death, the blessing and the curse: there- 
fore, choose life!” As a matter of fact, 
the chief title by which Moses is known 
among Jews is that of teacher, Moshe 
Rabbenu, “Moses our Teacher.” And this 
might well remind us of the educational 
element in Religion, as Judaism has 
viewed it. 


A S we read the biblical account of the 


Such a reminder we need today, be- 
cause this particular aspect of Religion 
is often misunderstood. Quite a few are 
convinced that Religion has been inimical 
to education, that its object has been to 


27 


keep people in a state of ignorance in 
order to maintain its own hold upon 
them. Because such a course has been 
followed by some individuals or groups, 
they think it has been the policy of Reli- 
gion as such. 


On the other hand, there are people 
who do not recognize the fact that the 
religious life itself involves the cultiva- 
tion of the mind, the application of in- 
telligence to the mastery of religious 
truth and the exercise of the practices 
of Religion. All too often Religion is 
taken to mean the acceptance of some 
miscellaneous traditions and the mechan- 
ical performance of some fixed tasks, 
rather than a _ process of spiritual 
enlightenment. 


It is one of the glories of Judaism that 
it has not countenanced such a narrow, 
one-sided interpretation of Religion. 
From earliest times it has stood for 
education in the broadest and deepest 
sense. 


28 


When I say deepest sense, what do I 
mean? I mean that Judaism has de- 
manded of its devotees an earnest effort 
to understand the teachings and com- 
mands of Religion, and not to be content 
with a mere superficial acquiescence, 
with a mere repetition of phrases and 
formulae. 


_ Take, for instance, the classic cry: 
“Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the 
Lord is one!” It is commonly considered, 
and rightly so, as the keynote of Juda- 
ism. It is the supreme summation of 
the Jewish doctrine and purpose. It has 
been hallowed by the tradition of thou- 
sands of years. Millions of Jewish babes 
have lisped these sacred syllables as their 
first confession of faith; and many 
martyrs throughout the ages have pro- 
claimed them as their last message to 
the world. Yet, who would say that 
Judaism had regarded the mere recital 
of the Shema as a sufficient indication of 
the religious life? Again and again we 
are told by the Rabbis—of all schools— 
that we must try to master the meaning, 


29 


the implications, the Intentions of the 
Shema, that we must recite it with 
Kawwana, if our utterance is to have any 
worth. | 


Knowledge has been one of the re- 
quirements of Judaism. “Where,” asks 
the talmudic rabbi, “have we a short 
passage on which depend all the chief 
concerns of Religion? In the verse: ‘In 
all thy ways know thou Him, and He will 
make straight thy paths !—(Prov. 3, 6).” 


Of course, it is better to do what 
Religion teaches without understanding 
it fully than not to do it at all. But in 
order to attain the richest religious life, 
Judaism has insisted, one must seek to 
cultivate one’s mind, one’s intellectual 
faculty, one’s reason. One must use, 
develop, one’s reason in order to go down 
to the depths of religious truth. “Every- 
body should know,” we are told by a 
modern author, “that Reason is a sacred 
faculty. Indeed, it is Heaven-appointed.” 
This sounds like an echo of the medieval 
Jewish rabbi who called Reason the 
angel between God and man. 


30 


And, similarly, Judaism has encour- 
aged education in the broadest sense, by 
which I mean that it has taught its 
adherents to cultivate every branch of 
knowledge as a means to the perfection 
of the religious life. Hokhmoth ba-hutz 
tarona barehoboth titten qolah. “Wisdom 
erieth aloud in the street: in the broad 
spaces she uttereth her voice’—we read 
in Proverbs. All forms of wisdom— 
hokhmoth—blend harmoniously in the 
street of Religion; it gives forth its voice 
on all the roads of life. Whatever serves 
to widen the domain of human knowl- 
edge and enlightenment, helps to estab- 
lish and effectuate the true religious life. 


That this has been the traditional 
Jewish attitude to education, is testified 
by our history. And by nothing more 
so than the nature of the spiritual 
leaders of the Jewish people. 


Nowadays our ideas of what consti- 
tutes a Jewish spiritual leader are rather 
confused. Often we display peculiar 
notions about his proper qualifications, 


31 


and our whole spiritual life is none the 
better for it. 


It is significant, however, that hitherto 
the spiritual heads of Israel have been 
teachers. Moses was a teacher, leaving 
for ignorance no pretext (as Josephus 
said of him), and addressing his instruc- 
tion to all the people and not only to a 
few chosen ones, as was done by the 
Greek masters. So were the ancient 
priests of Israel. This was their original 
function—dispensers of knowledge. It 
marked the deterioration of their office, 
when they became offerers of animals on 
the altar—an adaptation to alien custom 
and example. “The priest’s lips shall 
preserve knowledge’—this was the true 
Jewish ideal,—‘‘and from his mouth they 
shall seek instruction, Torah: for he is 
a minister of the Lord.” And what were 
the Prophets, if not teachers? - Their 
example was followed by the Rabbis. 
Moreover, it cannot be ignored that the 
outstanding rabbis of all ages—from 
Judah Ha-Nasi to Moses Maimonides and 
Abraham Geiger—were eminent in secu- ’ 


32 


lar knowledge, as well as in the laws 
and lore of Judaism. Education, both 
deep and broad, has been a prerequisite 
of spiritual leadership in Israel, and 
formed an important element in the 
religious life of the Jewish people. 


At present we observe a renewed 
emphasis on the connection of Religion 
with education. And for this we might 
be grateful. For, why is it that Religion 
lags in the world, and that so many are 
indifferent to it? It is because we are 
not sufficiently educated in regard to its 
contents and commands. We talk about 
it, but we.don’t know what it really 
implies. This is why we fall behind our 
professions and below our alleged stand- 
ards. “An ignorant person (said our 
rabbis) cannot be truly religious.” 


Modern leaders of all religious groups 
are getting to recognize the truth of this 
maxim more and more. “It is the relig- 
ious duty of all men,” writes Mr. David 
Graham in his recent work on “Religion 
and Intellect,’ “to gather their wits 


33 


about them and to think vigorously and 
conscientiously about everything — es- 
pecially about everything spiritual—that 
concerns them.” This is what Judaism 
has taught always, even at the risk of 
seeming too intellectual. The more edu- 
cation we put into our religion, the 
purer, the stronger, and the more de- 
pendable our religious life shall grow. | 


34 


IV 


THE CEREMONIAL ELEMENT IN 
RELIGION 


“And the fire upon the altar shall be 
kept burning thereby: it shall not go out.” 
—Leviticus 6, 5. 


EADERS of the book of Leviticus 
R are struck by the numerous cere- 

monies recorded in its pages. 
Various rules are laid down for the 
conduct of priests and people in connec- 
tion with the religious ritual. There is 
no attempt to explain these rules; they 
are given as commands of Moses, which 
he himself is said to have received from 
God, and which are assumed to have a 
value of their own, though not always 
apparent. From time immemorial at- 
tempts have been made to explain these 
ceremonies. But, as far as we are con- 
cerned, though they may not interest us 
in detail, they are valuable for one par- 
ticular reason: they call our attention to 
the importance of ceremonies in the 
promotion of the religious life. 


35 


That such a reminder is wanted at 
present, no one can deny. For, we hear 
a good deal of arguing in regard to the © 
place of ceremonies in Religion, and the 
views expressed are often diametrically 
opposed to one another. Some insist 
that the trouble with Religion is that it 
is entangled with too many ceremonies; 
—if only it did away with all those 
ancient trappings, and confined itself to 
spiritual and ethical teaching, they are 
sure, Religion would recover and even 
extend its hold upon mankind. On the 
other hand, who has not heard people 
make the contrary complaint? The 
trouble with our religion is, according to 
them, that we have done away with the 
old ceremonies. We have made it too 
aerial, nebulous, insubstantial a thing, 
they say. Reform Judaism, in particu- 
lar, is supposed to be guilty of such 
despoilment of Religion and to be marked 
by such tenuity. And that, they aver, 
is why Religion has decayed among us. 
That these views are contradictory, is 
evident. Can we reconcile them, and 
what grain of truth is there in each of. 


them? 
36 


As far as human experience goes, the 
truth seems to be that certain ceremonies 
are necessary to the maintenance of the 
religious life. Wherever we find Relig- 
ion among men, we find certain forms 
and rites. It is natural for men to seek 
an outward expression for their religious 
sentiments. 


When we come to the Jewish religion, 
what do we find to have been the object 
of its ceremonies? There are those who 
would have us believe that the object of 
Jewish ceremonies is to maintain the 
Jews as a separate nation. For this 
reason, they maintain, even such Jews as 
do not believe in the Jewish religion, in 
its teachings about God and the world, 
should keep up the practice of the tradi- 
tional ceremonies. They offer as illustra- 
tions certain modern Jews, such as the 
Hebrew writer Perez Smolensky, who is 
said to have acted on this principle. But 
such a view is at variance with the his- 
torical Jewish attitude. 


If we go to the Bible and the later 
exponents of Judaism, what are we told 


37 


about the function and purpose of relig- 
ious ceremonies? 


First, that they are meant to give out- 
ward expression to religious emotions, 
such as gratitude, humility, confidence. 
This is the object of the ceremonies we 
encounter in the stories of the Jewish 
Patriarchs. When Abraham has his first 
vision of God, he builds an altar: “And 
he builded there an altar unto the Lord 
who appeared unto him—and called upon 
the name of the Lord.” Similarly, Jacob, 
after his own vision of God, sets up a 
pillar as a token of his profound relig- 
ious experience. | 


Secondly, the ceremonies are meant to 
keep alive the memories of the past, and 
to revive those memories periodically. 
Remembrance, said a medieval rabbi, is 
the basis of Religion, the pivot of 
religious practice. If we forget the past, 
and neglect the observances linked with 
it, we are likely to let the thought of 
God slip from our lives altogether. 
Rabbi Moses of Coucy, the renowned 


38 


French rabbi, writes that it was shown 
him in a dream that the cardinal rule of 
the Divine Law was contained in the 
biblical words: “Beware lest thou for- 
get!” Thus, many Jewish ceremonies 
were designed to keep alive the remem- 
brance of the past and of the religious 
duties flowing from it. “In order that 
thou shalt remember the day thou 
wentest forth from the land of Egypt.” 
“And thou shalt see it and remember all 
the commandments of the Lord.” 


Thirdly, the purpose of Jewish cere- 
monies has been to stimulate the ethical 
and spiritual life of the people, to keep 
awake continually the desire for a good, 
pure, and upright life which, according 
to Judaism, is the essence of Religion. 
We-esh ha mizbeah tugad bo—‘“The fire of 
the altar shall be kept burning thereby.” 


If the history of Jewish teaching tells 
us anything, it tells us this much. Cere- 
monies are desirable and necessary in 
order to keep burning the fire of Relig- 
ion. But, on the other hand, ceremonies 


39 


are of no use, and worse than useless, 
if they are mere performances with 
nothing behind them, mere outward 
practices devoid of spirit, mere conven- 
tional or traditional gestures. Without 
spirit, ceremonies may become a menace 
to the real purpose of Religion. This 
is why the Prophets of Israel condemned 
the sacrifices which their contemporaries 
were wont to bring, as well as the rest 
of their ritual; they had lost value, be- 
cause they were not attended by a true 
religious life. “To what purpose is the 
multitude of your sacrifices unto Me?” 
the Lord demands, according to Isaiah. 
“When ye come to appear before Me, 
who hath requested this at your hand, 
to trample My courts? I cannot endure 
iniquity along with your solemn as- 
semblies!” And Ezekiel breaks in upon 
his outline of the order of sacrifices in the 
new temple with the challenge: “Thus 
saith the Lord God: Let it suffice you, O 
princes of Israel; remove violence and 
spoil, and execute justice and righteous- 
ness; take away your exactions from My 
people, saith the Lord God!” “My princes ° 


40 


—he demands—shall no more wrong My 
people!” Otherwise all their sacerdotal 
ceremonies shall be futile. 


This view was adopted by the leaders 
of Reform Judaism. If one accuses 
Reform Judaism of having wantonly 
thrown away the ceremonies of Israel, 
or to have flouted the ceremonial element 
in Religion, one says what is not true. 
This may have been true of some icono- 
clasts or spiritual vandals sailing under 
the flag of Reform. It was not true of 
the real leaders of Reform Judaism, of 
such men as Abraham Geiger, David 
Hinhorn, or Isaac M. Wise. They realized 
that certain ceremonies had outlived 
their usefulness, were not observed in 
practice, and the best thing to do with 
them was to let them die. But they 
retained such observances as were still 
vital, and introduced others to take the 
place of the old. The ceremony of Con- 
firmation, for example, was introduced 
by Reform Judaism, which surely would 
not have happened if the pioneers of 
Reform Judaism had regarded all cere- 


41 


monies as a superfluous part of Religion. 
“Among the most needful and most 
effectual appurtenances of Religion,” 
wrote Abraham Geiger, “undoubtedly 
are the ceremonies which sprang from 
the poetry of the life of the people and 
in which the most inward part of the 
human spirit attaches itself to the insti- 
tutions of Religion and adorns them with 
its most attractive productions.” 


We of today need religious ceremonies 
for the same reasons as of old. We need 
them to stimulate our religious life, to 
link us with the great past of the Jewish 
people, to body forth our own religious 
emotions and promptings. There may be 
some few who require no such outward 
helps and channels, but the majority of 
us need them. On the other hand, if we 
abandon altogether the observances and 
outward forms of Religion, Religion 
itself is likely to disappear’ from our 
lives. But we want to be sure, also, that 
our ceremonies are charged with spirit- 
ual worth, that, in the words of Geiger, 
we do not have mere crushed and soiled ~ 


42 


paper-flowers instead of beauteous and 
fragrant flowers of faith. 


This ig one reason why we should 
welcome the feast of Passover, and the 
ceremonies that go with its proper ob- 
servance, and why we should continue to 
keep all our festivals. Some complain 
that they do not get from Judaism the 
help, the radiance, the joy, which 
Religion ought to give. But these things 
we shall obtain from our religion if we 
maintain it, as did our fathers before us. 
Let us preserve both the ideas of our 
religion and the forms designed to 
express them. Thus, we shall fill our 
lives with beauty and strength! 


43 


‘ m i ‘i 
o 


i ' \ ie i 
‘i Nn uN) 


ual! 
Ka 


‘iy Pied 


Ne; Kit 
MF bis ihe 





Vv 


THE ETHICAL ELEMENT IN 
RELIGION 


“The ways of the Lord are right, and the 
just shall walk in them.”—Hosea 14, 9. 


T is an old custom with Jewish people 
| to devote part of every year to the 

study of Pirge Aboth—the Sayings of 
the Fathers. This ancient book contains 
a wealth of wisdom on the conduct of 
life. There are numerous ethical teach- 
ings in its pages, each of which deserves 
careful consideration. But, in a general 
way, the custom of discussing this an- 
thology of moral maxims on the Sab- 
baths between Passover and Tabernacles 
(or Weeks) is valuable because it em- 
phasizes the place of the ethical element 
in Religion. | 


A renewal of this emphasis is desirable 
at present. For, there is no subject 
which we hear debated more often than 
that of the relation of Religion and 
Ethics. There are those who believe that 


45 


Ethics is quite independent of Religion 
—that one does not require the help or 
the guidance of Religion in the pursuit 
of a good and happy life. Others, how- 
ever, treat Ethics as a matter of 
secondary, of subordinate, import in 
Religion. If they exercise certain rites 
of Religion, comply with certain regula- 
tions, they consider themselves religious, 
no matter what their ethical practice. 


It is the distinct merit of Judaism to 
have accentuated the place of Ethics in 
Religion as well as the place of Religion 
in Ethics. 


From the very beginning Judaism has 
felt and taught that Religion is Right- 
eousness, which means that it is bound 
up with right action, with clean conduct, 
all the way from the private life of the 
individual to the corporate conduct of 
the whole world. Crookedness and 
Religion cannot go hand in hand. 


This Judaism has stressed from the 
very time it appeared on the scene as a 
distinct religion. For this reason, accord- 
ing to some old rabbis, the special tal- © 


46 


mudic collection of ethical teachings is 
called Chapters, or Precepts, of the 
Fathers, implying that our ethical teach- 
ings go back to the very fathers of the 
Jewish religion. Clear indications of this 
fact we find in the very first book of the 
Bible. Abraham, we are told, was chosen 
by God, in order that he might train his 
descendants and his household in the 
practice of what is right and just: ’maan 
asher yetzawah eth betho we’eth banaw ahraw 
laashoth tzedaqa umishpat. (Gen. 18, 19). 
This is called the Way of the Lord— 
Derekh Adonay. And even before Abra- 
ham, Noah is saved because he is a 
righteous man, just as entire cities and a 
whole civilization are said to have been 
destroyed, not because they failed in the 
performance of proper religious rites, 
but because they failed in ethical 
conduct. 


Thus, from the very outset the Jewish 
religion insisted on the paramountcy of 
the ethical element in the carrying on of » 
Religion. And, this insistence continued 
in the work of Moses, of the Prophets, 
and of all their successors. It matters 


47 


not how elaborate a ritual you may have, 
how many prayers and sacrifices you 
may make, how many forms you may 
observe (all these men kept on repeat- 
ing) if you do not live a righteous life, 
your religion is nothing worth. 


Is not this what the Prophet Jeremiah 
tried to make clear to the people of 
Jerusalem, as he saw them passing into 
the Temple with their sundry gifts and 
gewgaws? “Trust ye not in lying 
words!” he cries, “The temple of the 
Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple 
of the Lord! Thus saith the Lord of 
hosts, the God of Israel: Mend your ways 
and your doings, and I will cause you to 
dwell in this place!” Indifference to 
ethical admonition, Jeremiah tells them, 
has destroyed their religion. “This is 
the people that hath not hearkened to the 
Voice of the Lord their God, nor 
accepted moral instruction: therefore, 
Religion is lost and cut off from their 
mouth.” 


But with equal force Judaism has 
taught the value of Religion to Ethics. ° 


48 


There are many human beings who 
would like to live ethically, but, for one 
reason or another, they fail. This is 
where our tragedy often lies. In what 
way does Religion help, or can it help, 
in the promotion of the ethical life? 


To this question Judaism has given a 
threefold answer. 


First, Religion inspires moral conduct, 
if it conceives the Divine Being as the 
Jewish religion hag conceived Him: as 
perfect in righteousness — in holiness. 
“Ye shall be holy, for I the Lord your 
God am holy.” It is an inevitable sign 
of our love of God to strive after a 
moral life. Thus, Religion stimulates the 
ethical life. 


But, secondly, it serves to enlarge, to 
augment, ethical power. “The perma- 
nent value of Religion is,” says Matthew 
Arnold, “that it has lighted up morality; 
that it has supplied the emotion and 
inspiration needful for carrying the sage 
along the narrow way perfectly, for 
carrying the ordinary man along it at 


49 


all.” There is many a thing of an ethical 
nature that people have done through 
the love of God, which otherwise they 
would have been too frail to do. Think, 
for example, of charity: some of the 
greatest charities were inspired by re- 
ligious motives, while people from whose 
heart such motives are absent often are 
content with mere niggardly perform- 
ance of a social duty. The same is true 
of every other ethical quality and prac- 
tice: honesty, purity, sobriety. 


Religion means not merely ethical 
duty: it means ethical power. Indeed, 
this is what constitutes part of the 
essence of Religion, according to Emile 
Boutroux, the French philosopher. “The 
originality of Religion,” he tells us, 
“dwells in the fact that it proceeds not 
from power to duty, but from duty to 
power.” Jewish history offers abundant 
testimony to this particular truth. Time 
and again, the Jew, both as an individual 
and as a people, has shown wellnigh 
superhuman power of action and endur- 
ance, impelled and fortified by his relig- ° 


50 


ion. “They were swifter than eagles, 
stronger and more courageous than 
lions, to do the will of their Creator,” 
as the old Jewish liturgy says concern- 
ing the many martyrs of Israel in all 
ages, including the present. 


And, finally, Religion sustains our 
faith in Righteousness. And what is 
there that so often we need more than 
this? It is the good, the righteous per- 
son that often suffers disappointment 
and defeat,—not merely material loss, 
but, what is much more serious, a seem- 
ing defeat of the spiritual and moral 
ideal upon: which his whole life is based. 
At such a time, faith in the intrinsic 
worth of the Right, derived from Relig- 
ion, is of supreme import. 


It must be clear to everyone that what 
the world needs today is just such a 
fusion of Ethics and Religion as has 
formed the soul of Judaism. The world 
has religions in abundance—it has an 
innumerable multitude of creeds and 
denominations, all vieing with one an- 


51 


other for recognition and homage. But 
what the world has not is a clear-cut 
insistence on the part of all these relig- — 
ions upon Righteousness as the soul and 
goal of Religion. What is the soul of 
Judaism? Righteousness. And what has 
been the goal of Judaism? The reign of 
Righteousness. This is the meaning of 
our Messianic Hope. For the Jew the 
coming of the Messiah would mark not 
the end of the world, but the beginning 
of the universal rule of righteousness on 
earth. It is Religion with such a goal 
the world needs today, and only such a 
religion will help it out of its troubles. 


Let us try to keep up the connection 
between Religion and Ethics. Let our 
religion find expression in ethical con- 
duct, and our ethical conduct be inspired, 
enhanced, and sustained by our religious 
faith. Thus, we shall put beauty and 
power into our own lives, as well as bliss 
and hope into the world! 


52 


VI 


THE SACRIFICIAL ELEMENT IN 
RELIGION 


“J saw the Lord standing beside the 
altar.”—Amos 9, 1. 


HE entire book of Leviticus is 

devoted to the sacrificial order of 

ancient Israel. Many of the ordi- 
nances laid down in its pages, and 
recorded in the name of Moses, went out 
of use long ago, if indeed they were ever 
actually put into practice. Yet this book 
is not devoid of spiritual value. It con- 
tains many passages of everlasting 
worth, such as the nineteenth chapter, 
with its lofty commands “Ye shall be 
holy, for I the Lord your God am holy,” 
and “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as 
thyself”’—the importance of which all 
acknowledge, though their Jewish origin 
quite a few are prone to ignore. But, 
as a whole, this book is valuable because 
it calls our attention to the element of 
sacrifice in all true religion. 


53 


If we study the history of Religion 
we are struck by the fact that in all 
forms of Religion, sacrifice holds a cen- 
tral, or a basic, place. This is true of all 
systems of religious belief and practice 
—from the most primitive to the most 
advanced. Mr. Frazer, in his learned 
and fascinating work, “The Golden 
Bough,” shows to what an extent the 
idea of sacrifice has dominated the wor- 
ship of primitive races. On the other 
hand, the whole Christian religion is 
founded on the idea of the self-sacrifice 
of Jesus in behalf of the human race. 


What does the universality of this 
element in human religions show? That 
in its ideal moments and moods, which is 
one phase of Religion, mankind has 
regarded sacrifice as of supreme im- 
portance. It makes no_ difference 
whether we think the idea was implanted 
by the Deity or originated in. the human 
mind, nor does it matter so much what 
was the original purpose of sacrifices— 
whether they were meant as gifts, or as 
means of appeasement and expiation, or ° 


54 


what not. Theories will differ. The 
fact that in the entire domain of 
Religion such stress is laid on the sacri- 
ficial element proves that men have 
always regarded it as of great conse- 
quence in the conduct of the ideal life 
and the attainment of ideal ends. 


That Religion is right in this em- 
‘phasis, is borne out by human experi- 
ence. It is an undeniable fact that 
nothing great has ever been achieved, by 
individuals or groups, without sacrifice. 
Whatever we possess in the form of art 
or letters or science rests on that foun- 
dation. If Socrates bequeathed to the 
world a philosophy of enduring worth, 
if Dante has given it poetry of unfading 
splendor, if Pasteur has enriched it with 
the beneficent results of science—it is 
because each of them was willing to 
offer up his own temporal advantage on 
the altar of the ideal. And this has been 
true of every other person who has ever 
attained to anything of lasting moment. 
Moreover, the civilization of the entire 
human race has been due to men’s 


55 


capacity for sacrifice, and practice of it. 
It is this truth that Mr. Benjamin Kidd 
sought to point out (some thirty years 
ago) in his book on “Social Evolution.” 
If it had not been for man’s willingness 
(he tried to show) to offer up his own 
immediate welfare for that of the race, 
and the advantage of the present for 
that of the future, there would have 
been no such thing as human progress. 


Nowhere is this shown more convinc- 
ingly than in the records of the Jew. 
There is no greater miracle in the world 
than the survival of the Jew. People 
swarm to the tomb of the dead Pharaoh; 
yet one live Jew might well cause them 
more wonder than many a dead Pharaoh. 
But what has made it possible for the 
Jew to live on—to outlast all the condi- 
tions created against him? One thing 
only: the spirit of sacrifice. 


It is said that Jesus taught that he 
who loses his life shall find it. This 
is what the Jew was taught from the 
very beginning. If you want life, you ° 


56 


must welcome suffering. Im hayyim ata 
hafetz yesurin ata hafez. Whatever good 
gifts the Lord gave to Israel, say the 
Rabbis, both material and spiritual, were 
gotten at the price of pain. It is a 
Jewish Prophet that first spoke of the 
Suffering Servant—Ebed Yahweh—called 
to endure woe and affliction for the 
benefit of others. This noble ideal the 
Jewish Prophet proclaimed over five 
hundred years before the birth of Jesus, 
which, indeed, makes Professor Gunkel 
call him a “Forerunner of Jesus.” 


Throughout the ages, the Jew has been 
ready to endure suffering, to make all 
manner of sacrifice for ideal ends, for 
his God, for the Torah, for his faith. 
There were times, as during the Cru- 
sades, when entire Jewish communities 
chose rather to die than to betray their 
faith,—men, women, and children slay- 
ing one another for the sake of their 
God. The blood of uncounted martyrs has 
watered the tree of Judaism. This is 
why the Jew has survived, and, besides, 


57 


has been able to enrich mankind with 
precious treasures of the spirit. 


And today, what is there men need 
so much as the sacrificial principle and 
practice in Religion and life? Frequently 
we are asked to consider the wrongs of 
modern life, the diverse social and 
private ills afflicting us. We are asked to 
stop and think of modern strife and 
misery, on the one hand, and of the orgy 
of pleasure-seeking and extravagance, 
on the other, with its concomitants of 
vice and crime. Is not most of it due to 
the fact that men have not yet learnt 
altogether the law of sacrifice? These 
things will exist as long as men are gov- 
erned by lust, and have not learnt to 
sacrifice anything for their own good or 
for that of their fellows. In spite of 
history, men have not yet mastered this 
lesson. It seems the hardest lesson of 
all for man to master. 


This is why, according to the Rabbis, 
the book of Leviticus begins with the 
words: “And the Lord called to Moses.” ° 


58 


After Moses had faced Pharaoh (say the 
Rabbis), and brought Israel out of 
Egypt, and crossed the Red Sea, and 
given the Decalogue, and provided food 
for the people in the desert, and erected 
the Tabrnacle, he thought he was done, 
his work finished. But no, said the Lord, 
the hardest task still lies before you: 
You still have to teach them the laws 
‘of purity and impurity, the law and the 
manner of bringing sacrifices. This is 
why the Lord called to Moses, anew, 
though the latter thought he was done. 


Thus, with all mankind. We may have 
gained political freedom, obtained ethical 
systems, devised economic plans, and 
established religious institutions; but the 
hardest task still lies before us: we have 
to learn how to make sacrifices for our 
own good and for the good of the race. 
Then only shall we be able to advance 
and to secure peace for mankind. “Who- 
soever brings a sacrifice,” say the Rabbis, 
“brings peace to the world.” 


And we, in our own way, as individual 
men and women, yet have to acquire the 


59 


habit of sacrifice. Time and again we 
criticize Religion in general, and our own 
in particular, complaining that it does 
not yield us the benefits, the spiritual 
advantages and consolations, Religion is 
supposed to contain. We have many 
quarrels with the Holy One: mahlogoth al 
Ha-Qadosh barukh hu. But whose fault is 
it? How can we expect Religion to 
benefit us as long as we have not gotten 
into the habit of making any sacrifice 
for it? Yet this is the last thing most 
of us ever think of doing. We want the 
gifts of Religion, but not its laws. It is 
seldom we are ready to give up anything, 
by way of pleasure or material profit, 
in order to advance our spiritual life. 
Even our children we accustom to regard 
everything else—even amusements and 
minor accomplishments — as preceding 
Religion in importance. Yes, we may 
have achieved many things: we may 
have gone far in organizing politically, 
socially, even religiously. But the 
supreme lesson we have to learn still: 
actually to make sacrifices for the sake 


of our religion. 
60 


As such a time the teaching of Moses 
concerning the sacrificial element in 
Religion takes on new meaning and im- 
portance. Let us try to live in accord- 
ance with it! Thus, we shall put true 
happiness into our own life, and con- 
tribute to the welfare of the world. 


61 


fp) 


i tO atan 
" sh? ; 





Vil 


THE VICARIOUS ELEMENT IN 
RELIGION 


“And thou shalt take the Levites for the 
Lord.”—Numbers 3, Al. 


in the book of Numbers, we can’t 

help being impressed by their un- 
usual character. They composed a 
whole tribe of men who were willing to 
forgo material possessions for the sake 
of devoting themselves to the service of 
the sanctuary. They acted as substi- 
tutes, as vicars, for the entire Jewish 
people in everything that belonged to the 
work of the tabernacle. “They are 
wholly given unto Me—in place of every 
first-born child in Israel have I taken 
them unto Me.” 


A S we read the account of the Levites, 


Today, however, the institution of the 
Levites—their readiness to act as sub- 
stitutes and servants of their people at 
the cost of personal wealth—may well 
serve to remind us of a subject seldom 


63 


discussed among us, namely, the vicar- 
ious element in Religion, and especially 
in Judaism. 


Among us, I say, this theme is seldom 
discussed. Why? Because most people 
are under the impression that the idea of 
vicariousness is not tolerated by Juda- 
ism. Judaism, they say, does not believe 
in substitutes, or in one’s gaining any 
religious advantage by the merit of 
somebody else, through somebody else’s 
virtue. Judaism, we are assured, insists 
on individual autonomy, on _ personal 
responsibility and merit: you and I must 
each work out our own salvation. 


Moreover, we are told that this forms 
the difference between Judaism and 
Christianity, for, according to Christian 
teaching, Jesus died for the benefit of all 
mankind, in the sense that his death is 
supposed to have served as a means of 
purging all others from sin- and saving 
their souls from perdition. Thus, while 
in Christianity the vicarious element is 
paramount, we are constantly asked to 
believe that in Judaism it does not exist. 


64 


But such a portrayal of Judaism is far 
from true. It is not complete. Nor is 
it just. It is polemical, rather than 
historical. 


It is true that Judaism emphasizes 
with all its might the part of the indi- 
vidual in the sphere of religious aim and 
achievement—the duty, the responsi- 
bility, the potencies of the individual 
man and woman. The Jewish masters 
have insisted on the freedom of the 
human will insofar as one’s moral and 
spiritual destiny is concerned. “Though 
everything is foreseen,” taught the 
heroic Rabbi Aquiba, “free-will is given, 
and, though the world is judged by 
grace, yet all is according to the abund- 
ance of work.” 


Nevertheless, Judaism has not gone to 
the extremes of individualism. It has 
been far from suggesting that a man’s 
life is shut up within his own shell, and 
that it has no relation to other lives, 
whether in the past or the present or the 
future. On the contrary, human lives 


65 


are interrelated, they are bound together 
by many cords. “All of God’s creatures 
borrow from one another,’ say the 
Rabbis. Each life owes much to others, 
and it attains its highest worth, relig- 
iously, when it strives to do something 
for others. This is what we may call 
the vicarious element in life, and who- 
ever knows the true character and 
record of Judaism must know that this 
very element Judaism has emphasized 
and sought to develop. 


Let us recall some of the Jewish teach- 
ings bearing on this subject. 


There is, first of all, the teaching con- 
cerning the Merit of the Fathers—Zekuth 
Aboth. This is one of the unique parts of 
Jewish doctrine. Mr. James Frazer, in 
one of his books, pleads for a more lively 
recognition of what mankind owes to 
the primitive pioneers of civilization. As 
for the Jew, a sense of his debt to his 
forbears has been part of his religion. 
The exalted faith, the self-sacrifice, the 
piety of his forefathers has acted upon 


66 


him throughout the ages as an incentive 
to rectitude, confidence, and devotion. It 
made, on the one hand, for humility, 
seeing that in whatever he achieved he 
beheld partly the merit of his ancestors; 
and on the other, for unwavering trust, 
as even in his darkest seasons—of 
trouble or temptation—he did not 
despair of the merit of the fathers which 
-would come to his aid. Thus, we have 
always been taught that it is the spiritual 
and moral excellence of the Patriarchs, 
of the Jewish pioneers, that has served 
to the advantage of all their descendants. 
We of today are benefitted and helped 
by the heroic efforts, the sufferings, the 
struggles of those that went before us. 


Similarly, the Jew has been taught 
that all Jews are responsible one for 
another. What we do, for good or ill, 
has not only an individual, but also a 
communal, a general aspect. It is 
vicarious. The exponents of Judaism 
have never wearied of trying to bring 
this truth home to us. They have not 
wanted the Jew to wait for his foes to 


67 


remind him of his unity, to urge him to 
solidarity. The unity of Israel is as 
much part of Jewish teaching as the 
unity of the Deity. God is not only one; 
He is indivisible. Nor is Israel divisible. 
Whatever one Jew does or experiences 
affects the others. This is why Israel is 
likened to a lamb, say the Rabbis: if 
you touch one part of its body, it shivers 
throughout. One Jew sins, and all are 
blamed. Conduct is vicarious. We have 
no right to do things which, aside from 
ourselves, will involve our fellowmen in 
its evil effects. It is like a man—say the 
Rabbis—finding himself on the high seas 
in a boat with many others. On a sud- 
den, he begins to bore a hole in the 
bottom of the boat. May he say that 
his act does not concern his fellow-pas- 
sengers? 


And, finally, the Jew has been taught 
one doctrine which is the essence of 
vicariousness: namely, that the best must 
be ready to work and suffer for the good 
of the rest. There is no problem that 
has troubled men more than this: Why 


68 


do the righteous suffer? Why do the 
best men and women so often get off the 
worst? Judaism has said: It is for the 
good of the rest of the world. Such are 
the suffering servants of the Lord. They 
suffer that others might be healed, they 
toil and strive and sacrifice for the en- 
noblement of mankind. Ebed Adonay— 
the Servant of the Lord—the man of 
' pains and acquainted with disease, smit- 
ten and afflicted, crushed and wounded, 
for the welfare and healing of others— 
it is the Jewish Prophet that gave this 
concept to the world, as well as the term, 
and the Jew has suffered and endured 
under its hallowing influence. “The full 
emergence of this conception into the 
religious consciousness,” say the authors 
of “The Making of the Western Mind,” 
“is one of the gifts that Hebraism helped 
to give the Western world, and the 
clearest signs of it meet us first in 
Isaiah.” 


There is, no doubt, a real need today 
for the emphasizing of this vicarious 
element in life, and in our religious 


69 


teaching. For two reasons. First, be- 
cause in our excessive modernism we are 
apt to forget what we owe to our fore- 
fathers. We think wisdom was born 
with us. As a matter of fact, we owe a 
great debt for our spiritual and ethical 
possessions to our predecessors. On the 
other hand, we have to consider that 
nothing is so fine as to work for the 
common good without expecting full 
reward, or immediate reward. Often 
this causes us hardship and doubt: why 
have we toiled and done our best, with- 
out gaining what would seem our due? 
Why have we labored and sacrificed for 
years and years only that another might 
come and gather the harvest? 


The Rabbis tell us that the Patriarchs 
of Israel did not receive full reward for 
their virtues: the residue was left for 
their descendants. Why, then, they ask, 
shall we expect complete compensation 
for what we do? 


Let us put forth our own best effort 
in the moral and spiritual life: but let 


70 


us also think of what we owe to others, 
and let us be willing to toil for others, 
as others have toiled for us! Thus, we 
shall put beauty and strength into our 
own lives and advance the welfare of the 
world. 


71 



















aN qs" eat ane ss vente 
rae iene me Dienst? 
hgh hana tele aa to em 
: UG anid Mie my eee te 
i fee ana teens wees. 
Ay Pe) aa ley vain m Aik ttt ihe ‘ee 4 
My Tae be iv tke mi iden red | 
as" ? ovis deal Nid Bis a My ae ‘sai ; 
Bay Abie lun etna ge tel {nd Gera 
net a Tee Ee we at, at Ae j ny boi b Laaplay 
batik i josh nam i wethe the hn Ae he ! 

































Se ken 
ee vy oy : ; PTY ae Lo 
i o ahs nea 


ee vine ere 4S chia ve 
Bij wae rae gy hd 1S ens ei fee Bal 
4 i ee | f eee ts GEES ‘pie pee er pe 
Os, UL) eee i: Rae wie yi hari , 
Ni masts ay! oe ae nat: i 
teal tre hi: 





Vill 


THE DEMOCRATIC ELEMENT IN 
RELIGION 


“All the congregation are holy, every one 
of them, and the Lord is among them.” 
—Numbers 16, 3. 


HERE is no subject discussed more 

widely at present than democracy. 

If this theme has always been popu- 
lar in America, the Great War has 
served to make it even more so. The 
word democracy is frequently drawn 
nowadays into the discussion of Religion. 
We want more democracy in Religion, 
we are told. It seems appropriate, there- 
fore, to try to answer the question: What 
does the democratic element in Religion 
mean? What does it imply? 


This is the question, I believe, Moses 
tried to answer when he was confronted 
by Korah and his band of rebels. 


For, Korah rebelled against Moses in 
the name of democracy. The story goes 


73 


that just when Moses was busy leading 
and training his people, seeking to 
satisfy their various wants and making 
plans for their future—just then Korah 
with his followers started a revolt. And 
what was the gist of his complaint? 
Democracy. Are not all the people 
equally holy, he demanded; then why do 
you, Moses, and your brother Aaron, lift 
yourselves above the rest of the people? 
We are as good as you, Korah insisted. 
“Ye take too much upon you!” he cried, 
“seeing all the congregation are holy, © 
every one of them!’ 


This was Korah’s conception of democ- 
racy. And what was the answer of 
Moses? He did not deny the equal holi- 
ness of the entire people. Indeed, he 
could not deny it, for this was the doc- 
trine he himself was trying to teach. 
“Ye shall be holy, for the Lord your God 
is holy!” But, he insisted; the proof of 
holiness lies not in prestige, but in 
service; true distinction means the per- 
formance of one’s duty rather than the 
seizure of a place for which one is not 


74 


qualified and which is occupied by an- 
other. “Is it not enough that the God 
of Israel hath separated you from the 
congregation of Israel, to bring you near 
to Himself, to do the service of the taber- 
nacle of the Lord, and to stand before 
the congregation to minister unto them 
—and seek ye the priesthood also?” 
This was the question Moses put to 
’ Korah and his fellows. 


In a way, we have here a summing up 
of the democratic principle in Religion 
as taught by the great exponents of 
Judaism—not only by Moses, but by all 
his successors. 


Students of history agree that the 
Jews were the most democratic people 
of antiquity. No reader of the Bible can 
fail to recognize this fact. In their 
political, economic, and general social 
system—everywhere we find the demo- 
cratic note struck in a manner found 
nowhere else in antiquity. 


What was responsible for it? No 
doubt, it was due to the teachings of the 


75 


Jewish religion. For, from the very 
beginning the Jewish religion contained 
and accentuated all the elements of a 
democratic faith. It taught that all men 
were the children of one God, that all 
men, whether poor or rich, were alike in 
the sight of God, that they were all sub- 
ject to the same moral law, and that all 
had equal access to the avenues of com- 
munion with their God. “The Lord is 
nigh to all that call upon Him, to all that 
eall upon Him in truth.” 


But all this would not have been suffi- 
cient if the Jewish masters had failed 
to add one particular teaching—namely, 
that equality of relationship to God 
means also equality of obligation, of 
responsibility, in the field of religious 
duty and service. When Korah affirmed 
that all the people were equally holy, we 
are told that Moses bowed his head; he 
assented: but then he proceeded to make 
clear to Korah that the function and ful- 
filment of democracy lay in every man’s 
doing his duty and serving, rather than 
in seeking undue place and privilege. 


76 


“Take you censers, Korah and all his 
company! And put fire therein!” said 
Moses. Do your duty, and by and by we 
shall know whether or not you are holy! 


Who will deny that this is the lesson 
we need to learn today for the good of 
democracy? All the world now is talk- 
_ing about democracy. Professor Stuart 
Sherman, in his fine book, called “Ameri- 
cans,” rightly says that at the present 
time the central current of the world, 
in spite of obstacles and cross-currents, 
is making toward democracy and he 
summons all those who would help 
fashion the future of civilization to join 
in this movement. But if democracy 
really is to flourish and thrive, we need 
to learn the lesson Moses tried to teach 
Korah and his associates. 


Today also we find two different con- 
structions of what democracy means. 
Some think it means merely that all are 
born free and equal, with emphasis on 
the “equal’; that everybody is as good 
as the next; and that there is no need 


717 


of bowing to any authority or standard 
of excellence in any sphere of life— 
whether in art and literature, or. in 
ethics and religion. Men are all equally 
excellent—this is the dogma of this par- 
ticular school, and none can fail to 
perceive the deleterious effect of such a 
self-deceiving belief on the various 
phases of our life—on our art, our 
literature, our morals, our politics. Many 
a scribbler fancies himself as good as 
Dante and Shakespeare, many a self- 
styled philosopher deems himself as 
much an authority on ethics as Isaiah 
and Plato, while if a man has made lots 
of money in business he is apt to regard 
himself the equal of any one in science 
and statecraft. We are all equally holy, 
equally good, equally competent—such is 
the leading notion of these modern 
disciples of Korah. 


On the other hand, there are those 
who believe that democracy means some- 
thing entirely different—that it means 
equality not in political arrogance and’ 


78 


intellectual impudence, but rather of 
opportunity, for self-development and 
for the pursuit of happiness; accom- 
panied by the duty to serve for the 
benefit of oneself and the community, 
according to one’s powers and place. It 
is not in the denial of distinction to the 
leaders of mankind, not in pusillanimous 

criticism of their merits, that democracy 
- consists; but rather in doing one’s own 
duty and performing one’s own service. 
Quality, as well as equality, is essential 
to the security and the success of 
democracy—the high quality of every 
individual’s service for the common pur- 
pose. “Take you censers, and put fire 
therein!” 


If this applies to every sphere of 
democratic life, how much more to 
Religion! We hear a constant demand 
nowadays for more democracy in Relig- 
ion. If only Religion were made more 
democratic, we are told, all would be 
well. Religion would become popular 
and the world come nearer perfection. 


79 


Let us be sure, then, we understand 
the true meaning of the democratic 
element of religion. Censers, not censor- 
iousness, is the true test. Let us not 
repeat the mistake of Korah and imagine 
we are religiously democratic simply 
because we assail our leaders, criticize 
all authorities and traditions, and main- 
tain we are as good as anybody else. Let 
us rather make sure that we try to do 
our duty as taught by our religion, and 
to perform our service in life according 
to our power and position. Thus, and 
not otherwise, shall we demonstrate our 
belief in the democratic nature of 
Religion, and help the cause of Religion 
toward vindication and victory. Thus, 
we shall make the best of our own lives 
and add to the weal of the world at 
large! 


80 


IX 


THE PROGRESSIVE ELEMENT IN 
RELIGION 


“And the children of Israel journeyed— 
toward the sunrising.”—Nwmbers 21, 10-11. 


HE book of Numbers is devoted 

largely to the story of the voyage 

of the Israelites through the Wilder- 
ness, and the difficulties and tribulations 
which formed part of it. We are told 
that the special reason why that hard 
and circuitous route was chosen was to 
train the people physically and morally. 
All these hardships were meant to make 
for the progress of the people, and to 
teach them the law of progress. Out 
of the rock they were to obtain water. 
And this may well prompt us to stop to 
consider a theme of particular interest 
at present, namely, the progressive ele- 
ment in Religion. 


There are several reasons for consider- 
ing this subject. First, because the ques- 
tion of progress as a whole has been 


81 


debated a good deal since the close of 
the War. There are those who have been 
led to the conclusion that progress is 
impossible, in a permanent sense. Men 
advance and retrograde in turn, civiliza- 
tions rise and fall (they say), and some 
are convinced that the entire Western 
civilization, which we were wont to 
regard as the proudest achievement of 
all the ages of human history, is doomed 
to decay in the near future. On the 
other hand, there are not a few left who 
proclaim progress as the law of life. 
Frequently, however, they object to 
Religion on the ground that it is un- 
progressive. Religion is static, they say, 
whereas it is the business of life to 
change, to grow, to advance. 


Whoever thinks of Religion in such 
terms, overlooks Judaism, or fails to do 
justice to it. For, Judaism has been a 
progressive religion. If it had not been 
for the presence of this element in its 
character, it could not possibly have 
maintained itself for so many thousands 
of years and amid such a large variety 


82 


of surroundings. What constitutes the 
progressive quality? First, capacity for 
growth, and, second, adjustment to new 
environments without sacrifice of the 
essentials of one’s own character. This 
has been the story of Judaism. It has 
existed for these many years. It has 
grown in content and extent. It has 
come in contact with all kinds of cul- 
‘tures and schools of thought. It has 
accumulated and assimilated a great deal 
of knowledge and experience, without, 
however, departing from its central 
truths and essential doctrines. 


Moreover, Judaism has tried to teach 
the law of spiritual progress to its 
devotees. The religious life, it has taught 
them, is a process of ethical effort and 
spiritual advancement. There are those 
who think that Religion can be acquired 
in a moment, or in an hour, by some one 
special act, by passing through some 
ceremony or reciting a formula or creed. 
Has Judaism ever sanctioned such a 
view? I doubt it. Of course, we have 
ceremonies, symbols, and even a creed— 


83 


and they all have their part in the relig- 
ious life. But they are only parts, 
moments, fragments. They are not the 
whole of the religious life. 


The religious life as such means a 
continuous effort of growth—an unceas- 
ing determination to become better and 
deeper and more loyal in everything that 
appertains to the moral and spiritual 
realm. That is why when the Jewish 
masters sought to define Judaism, they 
did it in terms of the active spiritual 
life, rather than otherwise. Thus Micah: 
“What doth the Lord require of thee, O 
man? But to do justice, to love mercy, 
and walk humbly with thy God!’ Do— 
love—walk: these are mobile words, im- 
plying energy and effort. And even so, 
the talmudic rabbi: “What does the 
spiritual order rest upon? Torah—Wor- 
ship—and Acts of Loving-kindness.” 
Ethical and spiritual progress are the 
true task and aim of the religious life of 
the individual. 


Similarly, Judaism has made progress 
the goal for mankind as a whole. There 


84 


is a certain class who criticize Judaism 
for not having made enough of the here- 
after, of the other world. It dwells too 
much, they say, upon affairs and con- 
cerns of this world. In a sense, this is 
true. The Prophets of Judaism have 
held that the Kingdom of God was meant 
for this planet as well as for any other, 
and that it is the duty of mankind to 
help bring about such a divine dominion 
upon earth. And this can be done, if 
men would only embrace the principles 
of true Religion and make them opera- 
tive in their relations. This is the 
highest goal of mankind. If thus far 
men have not attained to it, if thus far 
the common life of humanity is so im- 
perfect and unsatisfactory, if there is 
still so much strife and evil and misery 
among men, it is because they have not 
put into practice the principles of Relig- 
ion, though they have professed them 
abundantly. 


“From the Wilderness to Mattanah’— 
we read in the Bible. What does this 
mean? It means, say the Rabbis, that 
only when a man makes himself like the 


85 


wilderness, open to all, free from selfish 
passion, he is granted Mattanah, the gift 
of the Torah, of Religion, and thereby 
he obtains Nahliel, he secures the Divine 
possessions and rises to the heights of 
life—Bamoth. But if, having gained the 
heights, he is filled with pride and lust, 
then he is thrust down again to the low 
places—yes, his life turns to a desert— 
“from Bamoth to the valley which looketh 
down upon the desert.” (Numbers 21, 
18-20). 


Led by Religion humanity has risen to 
the heights. It is pride and greed that 
imperil its civilization and threaten to 
thrust it from the heights, overlooking 
the Promised Land, back to the desert. 


This is why we need Religion today. 
We want the world to advance, civiliza- 
tion to flourish, mankind to mount above 
the misfortunes and maladies of the 
present. Let us, then, try to carry into 
effect the principles of spiritual growth 
and ethical effort. Thus, we shall add to 
the wealth of our own lives and the weal 
of the world! ; 

86 


xX 


THE THEOLOGICAL ELEMENT IN 
RELIGION 


“JT will betroth thee unto Me in faithful- 
ness; and thou shalt know the Lord.” 
—Hosea 2, 22. 


our age is the unpopularity of 

theology. There was a time when 
theology was regarded as queen of the 
sciences; it was called sacred. But at 
present theology is scorned not only by 
infidels but also by such as style them- 
selves religious. Even rabbis have 
fallen into the habit of belittling it. But 
thoughtful people must pause occasion- 
ally to ask themselves whether such an 
attitude is right, whether such indiffer- 
ence, such hostility, to theology helps or 
hurts. Religion. 


: Orr of the striking phenomena of 


My answer is that such antagonism to 
theology is hurtful to Religion, and must 
continue to injure it as long as it lasts. 
For what is theology? I know it has 


87 


gotten such a bad name that people do 
not even stop to find out what it means; 
just, for instance, as people who don’t 
like socialism consider it unnecessary to 
inquire what it really stands for. [If 
there is anything in the field of religious 
theory or practice which does not appeal 
to them, they brush it aside as theology; 
and that ends it. 


But what is theology? It is the study 
of God, the science of Religion. This is 
what the word means: Daath Elohim: the 
knowledge of God, as the Hebrew has it. 
It is the business of the theologian to try 
to ascertain all possible knowledge of 
God and of His relation to man. Relig- 
ion signifies the relation of man to God 
—and theology is the science of God and 
of man in the light of this relationship. 
In other words, theology is just as much 
the science of Religion as medicine is the 
science of healing, or astronomy is the 
science of the stars, or mathematics and 
geometry are the sciences of the en- 
gineer. Now suppose physicians came 
to make light of medicine, or engineers ° 


88 


began to ridicule geometry and mathe- 
matics, what effect would that have on 
the arts of healing and construction? 
It is obvious that these two arts would 
deteriorate by reason of neglect of the 
sciences underlying their practice. No 
less certain it is that the art of the relig- 
ious life, the practice of Religion, is 
- bound to deteriorate by the ridicule or 
general neglect of theology. 


If we turn to history, we find some 
valuable light on the subject. We dis- 
cover that those ages which paid most 
attention to Religion and took its pre- 
cepts most seriously, were the ages that 
occupied themselves a great deal with 
theology. 


Take the Bible, for instance. Now and 
then we are told by some sociological 
enthusiasts that there is no theology in 
the Bible—it is just a sanctified sociol- 
ogy. This, of course, is preposterous. 
The Bible is full of theology, though it 
may not be presented in the form to 
which we are accustomed. Even the 


89 


social teachings of the Bible are based 
upon its theology, and permeated by it. 
Indeed, the one thing the masters of the 
Bible try to do continually is to make 
clear the difference between Jewish 
theology and heathen theology, between 
the theology of the Prophets and the 
theology of their opponents. Is there no 
theology in Hosea? Is there no theology 
in the tenth chapter of Jeremiah, in the 
sixty-first chapter of Isaiah, or in the 
seventy-third Psalm? Is there no 
theology in the book of Job? Many a 
treatise has been written on the theology 
of the Bible, and nothing could be more 
absurd than the persistent proclamation 
of the sociological ecstatics among our 
present-day rabbis that there is no 
theology in the Bible. 


Or take the middle age as another 
example. It is often referred to as the 
age of faith—its life, its literature, its 
art, all was dominated by the religious 
motive, by the religious passion. Well, 
during that period we find theology 
flourishing. The outstanding figures in 


90 


the Christian and Mohametan world 
were theologians. And the same may be 
said of the Jews. St. Thomas Aquinas 
the Christian, Ibn Roshd the Mohame- 
tan, Maimonides, the Jew—were masters 
of philosophy and science, but their 
crowning interest and chief effort was 
devoted to the discovery of the truth 
about God and His relation to man. 
- Though we may not approve of all their 
theology, though we may find it imper- 
fect, as indeed we regard every other 
science of those days as imperfect, we 
cannot deny the grandeur of their effort, 
the vastness of their knowledge, the pro- 
fundity and vigor of their intellects, nor 
yet the effect of their theological thought 
on the actual religious life of their times. 
And, similarly, it would seem that today 
we can expect a real revival of religious 
life only according as we have a renewal 
of interest in theology and a new éstab- 
lishment by the aid of theology of those 
truths which are at the base and the 
core of the religious life. 


Nothing offers a better illustration 
than our contemporary Jewish life. It 


91 


is certain that there is among us a great 
deal of indifference to Religion. What 
is the cause of it? No phrase has be- 
come so current in our midst as the one 
“T am not religious.” Mind you: this 
among us whose frequent boast it is that 
we had given Religion to the world and 
no less frequent assertion that Religion 
is our sole reason for existence. For 
this irreligion diverse explanations are 
offered, and a multitude of remedies. 
But in reality there is one cause only: 
it is the lack of belief—or, at least, of 
certainty in regard to the central asser- 
tions of Religion. 


Let us be frank about it! There 
would not be so much irreligion among 
us if we were certain about the reality 
of God, the nature of the human soul, 
the value of prayer, the hereafter—and 
other themes associated with Religion. 
Am lo yabin yilabet-—as the Prophet has 
said: because we do not understand, we 
are confused, distraught. And there is 
but one cure. Insofar as we can con- 
vince men of the reality of these things; 


92 


demonstrate these truths to their satis- 
faction, we may hope to bring about a 
real revival of the religious life. Other- 
wise, our religion must remain super- 
ficial, no matter how much we talk about 
it (a molluscous religion, as Professor 
Girgensohn puts it, mere structurless 
feeling and turbid chaotic “life’). And 
such demonstration, clarification, en- 
. lightenment can come only from theology 
—not a theology which would reproduce 
only the knowledge and the arguments 
of the past, but a theology which, as 
earnest and energetic as the old, would 
derive its material and method from all 
the thought and the light we have 
gained in modern times. 


This is why I say we must change our 
modern attitude. Let us cease throwing 
stones at theology. To do so, means to 
hurt Religion. Let us rather do all we 
can to encourage and diffuse the study 
of Religion—the knowledge of God and 
of His relation to man, which is the 
theme of theology. Let us support our 
theological seminaries, and let us in- 


93 


struct them not to neglect the cultivation 
of theology, and thus omit the Prince of 
Denmark from Hamlet. Let us try to 
create a theological literature fit for our 
modern needs. And let us study such 
works as we have. Thus, we shall lay a 
firm foundation for our own religious 
life and add to the effectiveness of 
Religion in the world! 


94 


XI 


THE POETIC ELEMENT IN 
RELIGION 


“Where is God my Maker, who giveth 
songs in the night?’—(Job 35, 10) 


beautiful and profound passages. But 

none, perhaps, is more suggestive than 
the one in which Elihu complains of the 
absence of such as would look for God in 
the true spirit and seek to find in Him the 
highest He has to offer. “By reason of 
the multitude of oppressions,” says Elihu, 
“they cry out; they cry for help by reason 
of the arm of the mighty. But none saith, 
Where is God my Maker, who giveth 
songs in the night; who teacheth us more 
than the beasts of the earth, and maketh 
us wiser than the fowls of heaven?” 


[: the book of Job there are many 


Elihu knew of people with whom the 
quest of God was a cry for help from 
oppression, a protest against the wrong- 
doing of the mighty, an ethical clamor 
and complaint. But he looked for those 


95 


with whom the quest of God was some- 
thing finer and deeper, a seeking of Him 
who is the Maker of all, who is behind all, 
who is the harmoniser of all discords, the 
sweetener of all sorrows—who giveth 
songs in the night—who fills the night of 
human experience with songs of peace 
and joy and the realization of whom 
makes us greater than the beasts of the 
earth and wiser than the fowls of heaven. 
This latter form of God-seeking, Elihu 
felt, was the highest, the most exulting, 
the most helpful form of religious quest. 


This is the poetic side of Religion—a 
side which is often overlooked nowadays, 
since it has become customary to dwell 
chiefly upon its social or ethical side, but 
which is nevertheless its most essential 
and most influential element. It is cer- 
tainly true that what the finest and most 
devout spirits of all ages have sought and 
found in Religion has been this particular 
thing accentuated by Elihu—the poetic 
element. God as the great Reality behind 
the seen world, the Harmony beneath the 
numeruos discords, the Peace amid the 


96 


multitude of tribulations, the Wisdom and 
the Light of the World, and, above all, the 
Giver of Songs in the Night—this is the 
God-idea that has been cherished most by 
the deepest and devoutest natures, that 
has been the fountain-head of inspiration 
to men and women of the profoundest 
religious insight and longing. It has 
formed the poetry of Religion, which is 
even deeper than the ethics of Religion, 
and which has helped augment the poetry 
of human life. 


“God my Maker, who giveth songs in 
the night!” There is no more suggestive 
characterisation anywhere in the Bible or 
the rest of religious literature! Itisa 
description reminding us of the close kin- 
ship that always has been felt to exist 
between Poetry and Religion. 


When M. Solomon Reinach, some years 
ago, wrote a history of universal religion, 
he chose for it the title “Orpheus,” be- 
cause among the Greeks Orpheus was 
regarded as the first musician and poet 
as well as the first teacher of Religion and 


97 


revealer of its mysteries. The father of 
Poetry was identical with the father of 
religious worship. As for the early Jews, 
we know from the Bible how closely 
related were their faith and their poetry. 
The greatest poetry of Israel, which has 
become part of the foremost poetry of the 
world, was the product and expression of 
his religious aspirations and needs. The 
lyre and the harp among the Hebrews 
were the instruments through which the 
soul of man poured out its yearnings for 

God. | 


This association of Religion with 
Poetry, which we encounter in ancient 
Thracia and Judea, has persisted through - 
the ages and come down to our own time: 
an association due not only to the fact 
that some of the greatest poets have dealt 
with religious themes — such as the 
Psalmists, Dante, and Milton — but also 
to the feeling that essentially Religion 
and Poetry stand for the same things, 
imply the same ideals and qualities, and 
seek to accomplish the same ends. “The 
strongest part of our religion today,” 


98 


wrote Matthew Arnold some thirty years 
ago, “is its unconscious poetry.” And the 
saying, some one has added, might have 
been reversed to read that the strongest 
part of the poetry of the day was its 
unconscious religion. What Matthew 
Arnold wrote a generation ago we see a 
poet like Alfred Noyes re-affirm today, 
and a philosopher like Mr. Santayana 
~seek to demonstrate. Poetry and Relig- 
ion, the latter tells us, differ only in the 
way in which they are attached to practi- 
cal affairs: “internal poetry is religion, 
and external religion, poetry.” Thus, men 
of insight time and again have indicated 
the essential kinship of Poetry and Relig- 
ion, thanks to certain qualities which are 
common to both and by which they have 
been most useful to human life. 


What are some of these qualities shared 
by Poetry and Religion? 


First, they both appeal to the imagina- 
tion and demand the cultivation of the 
imagination: neither Poetry nor Religion 
is possible without it. If a Shakespeare 


99 


or a Homer or a Goethe is impossible 
without the power of imagination, so is a 
Moses, an Isaiah, or an Amos; and if no 
man can appreciate the products of 
Poetry without the exercise of imagina- 
tion, neither can one without it appreciate 
the message and the purpose of Religion. 


Then, comes sympathy, which is a 
quality essential both to Poetry and Re- 
ligion. What made Burns, the humble 
young peasant, into a poet of Nature and 
Humanity? What enabled Wordsworth 
to sing the joys and sorrows of people of 
all classes? What gave Browning his 
vast array of themes? The quality of 
sympathy. And without this quality 
Hosea could not have spoken concerning 
God’s love for Israel, Ezekiel could not 
have dedicated his life to the consolation 
and restoration of his people, Amos could 
not have thundered forth his demands in 
behalf of the poor and oppressed, and 
Micah and Isaiah could not have forecast 
the golden age of peace and happiness for 
all men. 


100 


And, thirdly, Poetry and Religion have 
in common the mystic feeling of the 
Beauty, Harmony, Peace that underlies 
and envelops the universe. “All great 
poetry, all great art,” says Alfred Noyes, 
“brings us into touch, into communion, 
with the harmony which is the basis of 
the universe, the harmony in which all our 
discords are resolved. All our great art 
‘does this, and this is the one test of its 
greatness.” And all our great religion, 
also, does this, and this is the one test of 
the greatness of Religion. 


In its lesser and lower moments Relig- 
ion may be concerned with minor ques- 
tions of duty and advantage; but in its 
highest moments it seeks to bring us into 
touch, into communion, with the Har- 
mony which is the basis of the universe, 
the harmony in which all our discords are 
resolved, all our difficulties overcome, all 
our doubts cleared, all our sorrows are 
turned into song, all our needs are met. 
Goethe’s great line “On all summits there 
is peace’ may serve to symbolise the 
heights of Poetry and Religion alike: 


101 


their highest aim and achievement is the 
exaltation of the spirit of man to the 
heights of harmony, tranquility, and 
repose. 


In the annals of Israel we find manifold 
evidence of the poetic character and 
power of Religion. “Thy laws have been 
my songs in the house of my pilgrimage,” 
the Psalmist sang long ago. And this is 
what Religion has meant to the Jew 
throughout the ages, and in the various 
stages, of his pilgrimage. How often has ~ 
not life been broken for him by failure 
and suffering, how often has he not been 
perplexed by calamity and doubt, how 
often was he not brought to the very 
brink of despair! Yet, he was saved, 
comforted, fortified, restored, by Religion 
—with its hopes, its compassion, and its 
prophetic vision. Storms might rage, 
malice and cruelty might grow beyond 
measure, evil might spring ever anew 
from the ground—but he is invincible, 
because in his heart and in his home, in 
his synagogue and in his soul, there con- 
tinues to shine the radiance of Religion. 


102 


“He who maketh peace in His heights,” 
the Jew has kept on affirming, “He shall 
make peace for us and for all Israel!” 


For the sake of the qualities which they 
have in common, we need both Poetry and 
Religion in our modern life. Unfortu- 
nately, it is just these qualities we are in 
danger of losing nowadays; yet we must 
_ admit that their loss means an impover- 
ishment of life. What is life without the 
play and reach of the imagination? What 
is life without sympathy? What is life 
without the faculty of feeling that behind 
the cold facts of the visible world, behind 
its discords and tribulations, behind its 
cries and woes, there is a higher Reality, 
an eternal Order, a sweeter Harmony and 
Peace? Elihu felt the need of this deeper 
perception and nobler yearning: Oh, he 
said, I know there are those full of right- 
eous indignation at the abuses of the 
world, those that cry out against evil and 
oppression, those that protest against 
wrongdoing and crime, and think that is 
all there is to religious effort; but who is 
there crying out for God the Maker, 


103 


yearning for Him that giveth songs in the 
night, longing for Him who makes us 
wiser than beast and fowl? It is-this 
deeper sense of Religion, its poetic ele- 
ment, we are in peril of losing these days; 
yet, we need it most. 


For, in the first place, our life has 
become very prosaic. We have banished 
imagination not only from our serious 
pursuits, but even from our amusements. 
Take the theatre, for example: its glaring 
fault is neglect of the imagination; and 
this has brought other evils in its train. 
Poets like Mr. Synge and Mr. Yeats are 
not the only ones clamoring for a restora- 
tion of the imagination to the English 
stage. Moreover, in the hurry and ab- 
sorption of our modern industrial life our 
sympathies are dulled, and civilization is 
ever more in danger of becoming selfish, 
which, of course, means the loss of all the 
gains of civilization and an unconscious 
return to barbarism. It is the growth of 
sympathy that has marked the advance 
of civilization; the diminution of sym- 
pathy means deterioration. And, lastly, 


104 


our latter-day worship of facts, our ab- 
sorption in the visible world, is only too 
apt to blind us to the supreme fact that 
material facts do not explain everything 
nor constitute everything, that the world 
we can see and touch does not answer all 
our needs nor satisfy all our desires, and 
that there is many a moment when our 
- heart cries out for something that lies 
away beyond the mere facts that sur- 
round us. 


The decay of insight, the diminution of 
sympathy, the banishment of the imagin- 
ation are the perils of our modern life. 
In order to counteract them we need the 
two great kindred forces that have made 
for the increase of sympathy, imagina- 
tion, and insight—Poetry and Religion, 
two forces which in reality are one, which 
sometimes by diverse paths and often by 
the same path have led men up to the 
summit of the hill of the Lord. 


105 


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pans Iie hie 


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te ‘Lait : * Mi 


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mara boyy lea 





XII 


THE UNIVERSAL ELEMENT IN 
RELIGION 


“And Moses went out to meet his father- 
in-law, and bowed down and kissed him; 
and they asked each other of their welfare; 
and they came into the tent.” 

—Exodus 18, ". 


HE story of Jethro and of his meet- 
| Pee with Moses is, in some ways, one 

of the most important chapters in 
the Bible. Not only does it relate a very 
interesting incident in the life of Moses, 
but it reminds us, also, of the universal 
element in the Jewish religion, a remin- 
der particularly desirable, I believe, at 
the present time. 


Among sensible people we find just 
now a great craving for unity—for 
something to harmonize and knit to- 
gether the different groups of the human 
family. There is so much division and 
conflict in the world—so much trouble 
and suffering brought forth by diverse 
differences rampant among men—that 


107 


the heart of all friends of humanity 
yearns for means of unification. If 
Religion, however, is to contribute to- 
wards such an end, it must be of a 
universalistic nature—its tone and trend 
must be comprehensive. Is Judaism such 
a religion? Does it possess the universal 
quality? Some say No, and they would 
have none of it. They regard Judaism 
as a narrow, tribal, national creed. But 
those who really know the soul and the 
story of Judaism will be loath to accept 
such a view. 


That Judaism is strong in the univer- 
sal quality, we know, first of all, from its 
teaching about God, the world, and man. 
One God—one Creation—one humanity 
—and one divine goal for all men: this 
is the real burden of the Bible. The 
account of the Creation in the Bible may 
not be in the manner of modern scientific 
authors, but this in no way affects the 
spirit and the idealism behind it. The 
teaching of unity permeating it—this is 
what counts: all men have the same an- 
cestry, created divinely. 


108 


Similarly, in the story of Jethro there 
is much to consider. Jethro is a non- 
Jew. He is a priest of Midian. Yet 
what do we find? He is a friend of 
Moses, his father-in-law, and he con- 
verses with Moses intimately about the 
religious concerns and destiny of Israel. 
Wayobehu ha-ohelo: they came together 
into the tent—the tent of the Torah. 
The Prophet of Israel and the priest of 
Midian are friends. There is nothing in 
Judaism to prevent this. Indeed, the 
whole hope of the Jewish religion is that 
some day such friendship would embrace 
all mankind. The day will come, say the 
Rabbis, when all the nations shall realize 
that God clings to Israel and they shall 
join Israel in worship. ‘On that day (as 
the Jewish Prophet has predicted) the 
Lord shall be One and His name shall 
be One.” 


Careful reading of the Jethro story, 
moreover, will reveal another side of the 
universal quality of the Jewish religion. 
It is its readiness to learn from every- 
body, to welcome Truth, no matter 


109 


whence it may come. Jethro, we are 
told, taught Moses an important lesson 
in regard to the administration and edu- 
cation of the people. Some modern 
interpreters would even have us believe 
that the very name of the Deity Moses 
got from Jethro. Anyway, the Bible 
tells us that the idea of the elders, or 
judges, which was destined to become an. 
important Jewish institution, Moses got 
from the Midianite priest. This illus- 
trates the readiness with which Judaism 
at all times has taken suggestions and 
ideas from other sources, incorporating 
them into its own system of truth and 
idealism. 


Some critics have sought to depict this 
as a sign of Judaism’s inferiority, or lack 
of originality, as did Frederic Delitzsch, 
who died the other day. Because certain 
stories found in the Bible are found also, 
albeit in crude, primitive form, in Baby- 
lonian literature, Professor Delitzsch 
wanted us to believe that there was no 
originality in the Bible. But one might 
as well deny originality and poetic merit 


110 


to Shakespeare, because Hamlet and 
Macbeth and the rest of his dramas were 
based on some old chronicles. No—its 
very readiness to learn from all, is one 
indication of the universal quality of 
Judaism—its aliveness to the Divine 
presence everywhere and its perception 
of the spiritual implications of other 
men’s traditions and gropings. When 
* the Lord revealed Himself to give the 
Torah to Israel, say the Rabbis, He ap- 
peared to them not from one quarter but 
from all four quarters. This is why we 
read in the Bible, they said, “The Lord 
came from Sinai—He rose unto them 
from Seir—He shone forth from the 
mountain of Paran,” and why Habakkuk 
added: “God cometh from Teman.” From 
all parts, from diverse cultures and 
philosophies, Judaism has gathered re- 
ligious inspiration, remaining true, how- 
ever, always to its own central wisdom 
and supreme purpose. 


And, finally, we must not forget the 
influence Judaism has exercised on the 
outside world. This is another proof of 
its universalism. 


111 


What makes for the universality of a 
work of literature or art? It is this: 
that while it was created for its own 
time and place, it contains something 
which appeals to the people of all ages 
and places. This is the secret of the 
universality of Dante’s Divine Comedy, 
of Shakespeare’s King Lear, of Goethe’s 
Faust. Each was written for a particu- 
lar age and public; yet it is full of mean- 
ing to this very day, for readers of all 
kinds and places. This is true of all 
great works of art, whether in painting 
or music or poetry. They combine in 
their appeal the particular with the 
universal, the immediate with the per- 
ennial. 


The same is true of Judaism. While 
Judaism was meant primarily for the 
Jew, its outlook was upon the world. The 
Prophets prophesied not only upon 
Israel, but upon all the peoples round 
about. The Psalmists wrote for all men. 
“In thy offspring shall all the children of 
the earth be blessed”: such was the 
promise and the command to the first 


112 


Jew of history, Abraham—and a recent 
non-Jewish writer in The Hibbert Jour- 
nal rightly calls it the first teaching of 
universalism on record, as well as the 
foundation, the starting-point, of all 
subsequent teaching of this nature. 


It is a gross error to think of Judaism 
as a religion intended solely for the Jew. 
“Tt is too light a thing,” says Isaiah, 
“that thou shouldst be My servant to 
raise up the tribes of Jacob, and to 
restore the offspring of Israel: I will also 
give thee for a light of the nations, that 
My salvation may be unto the end of the 
earth.” 


The destination of Judaism is the 
whole world. This is, according to the 
Rabbis, why the Torah was given in the 
wilderness. As the wilderness is free to 
all, so the Torah. Had the Torah been 
given in the land of Israel, the other 
peoples might have thought it was not 
intended for them as well as for Israel. 
It is meant for all nations, though they 
have not yet realized it fully. Even the 


113 


sanctuary in Jerusalem, the Rabbis 
remind us, was designed not merely for 
the Jews, but also for other peoples, as, 
indeed, is stated in Solomon’s Prayer of 
Dedication. This is why the Rabbis say 
that had the nations known how much 
the Temple meant to them, they would 
have built towers round about it in order 
to protect it. 


Contrary to what some people main- 
tain, the Rabbis did not confine the privi- 
leges and benefits of Judaism to their 
own people. “Even a non-Jew,” they 
affirmed, “who occupies himself with the 
Torah is equal to a high priest,” for, 
they pointed out, with reference to the 
Divine commandments, it is written in 
Leviticus (18, 5): “Which if a man do, he 
shall live by them.” Does it say, if a 
priest do them? Or a Levite? Or even 
an Israelite? No! It says: If a man do 
them. The Torah is called Torath Ha-adam: 
“Man’s Torah.” (J/ Samuel 7,19). Any 
man of no matter what origin may em- 
brace the Torah and obtain its benefits. 
Righteousness is open to all. It does not 


114 


depend upon descent. A man could not 
become a priest, say the Rabbis, unless 
he belonged to the family of Aaron; nor 
could be become a Levite, unless he be- 
longed to that tribe. But if he wants to 
become a God-fearing man—adopt the 
Torah—it matters not whence he sprang. 
Though he be a non-Jew, he may do so: 
im mebagesh adam leheyoth tsaddiq aphilu goy 
' yakhol hu. This is why the Psalmist says 
(Psalms 135, 19): “O house of Israel, bless 
ye the Lord: O house of Aaron, bless ye 
the Lord! O house of Levi, bless ye the 
Lord!” But when he calls on those that 
fear the Lord, he does not mention their 
family, their house: “Ye that fear the 
Lord, bless ye the Lord!” 


God loves the stranger, according to 
the Talmud. He is solicitous for their 
welfare and they are as important as 
Israel—ha-gerim igar hem ke-Yisrael. The 
Jew should be especially considerate of 
the stranger who adopts Judaism, the 
Rabbis have taught, and treat him lov- 
ingly. There was a king, they say, who 
had a large flock of sheep. Presently a 


115 


deer came and joined the sheep in their 
pasture. When the king discovered it, 
he instructed the shepherds to take 
special care of the deer, which surprised 
the shepherds very much. But the king 
said, It is not customary for a deer to 
leave its own wild haunts and to come 
to live with sheep, as this deer has done. 
Therefore, we must take special care of 
it. Similarly, the Jew must be particu- 
larly considerate of the non-Jew, who 
has left his own kith and kin and his own 
creed in order to embrace the Torah. 


Judaism has influenced innumerable 
teachers, dreamers, and idealists outside 
Israel—all through the ages. And this 
offers undeniable testimony to its uni- 
versal quality. 


There is today a widespread craving 
for the universal element in Religion. 
This we have in Judaism—in its teach- 
ing, in its attitude to Truth, in its in- 
fluence. All we need is to cherish its 
doctrine and to live according to its 
direction. Thus, we shall add to the 
beauty and benefit of the world. 


116 





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